søndag 27. november 2011

Vengeful stab at false ego's heart

Marathon time.
”You can feel it”,
A devotee said today.
“Lord Chaitanya is here.”

And so it begins..
For me
This means digging deep.
My mind has been storing
Excuses
Since spring
Or so it feels like.
(No, honestly
It has!)
Fermenting them,
In this way brewing some of the year’s
Most potent
Aversions.
“Going out with books?
Eww..
What a senseless piece of
Self-fladgulating
Waste of time?!”

Of course,
This static grating of the mind
Is pure
Nonsense.
All bogus.

Marathon time is
Nectar time!
Srila Prabhupada inaugurated it,
And to partake is seen as
A serious
Annual
Recommitment
To his cause,
Param vijayate
Sri Krishna sankirtanam!

Of course,
I don’t get so worked up
With the whole
Competitive spirit.
I’m not in shape for
Any medals,
I don’t aim for
The podium.
The stadium is for
The celebrated athletes,
Who work hard throughout
The whole year,
Who stay in shape.

I’m like the bloke
Watching footie on the tellie,
Comfortably seated at home,
Coaching from the couch.

However,
I do have my own ball.
(No, honestly,
I do!)
And
I take it out sometimes,
At least
Now and then,
I must,
So when I cheer
For my team,
From a stadium folding chair,
(not front row, in the back)
Mustering all my
Artificial
Affiliation,
Wearing the colors,
(but lacking the heart),
People will think
“Ah, he knows this game.
AND he is  humble!”

tirsdag 15. november 2011

Lonely planet, 16.11.2011

Omg,
The mind is so
Uncultured!
It goes on and on.
Like a taxi driver
In a country
Where you so clearly
Are a tourist.
He wants to show you the sites,
Take you places only he knows.
He has a friend on every corner
Who can supply
Your every need.

Although seemingly
Friendly,
The meter is ticking in the background
The whole way.
And although seemingly
Locally streetwise,
He does every possible detour,
Purposely,
All the time saying:
“It’s ok, my friend.
This way is faster.”
“Nono,
You cannot go there
This time of year,
I know someone.”

Give me a break!
Hit the breaks!
I want off!

I am seeing through
Your schemes,
Your hustling,
Your routine.

I want off
And out.

But it is not so easy.
For now,
You two are as one.
Stuck in the
Awkward taxi
Of a material body
You must live with the mind.

Engage him rather in
Errands of the soul.
Tip him if you must.
Crawl out from the back
And sit in front.
Give directions.
Acquire a map
To keep your heading.

The Bhagavad Gita, as it is,
Comes recommended
By experienced travelers.
And if you find yourself
In a predicament,
Arrange a
Rendezvous
With such persons!

Then there is that Hare Krishna
Mahamantra,
Which is said to
Cleanse the sliding mirrors
Of all similar
Traffic bound vehicles,
Which you may find yourself
Occupying,
From time to time.

In this way
Your see things more clearly.
U get perspective.

Bon voyage.


søndag 6. november 2011

Voices, dogs and inhospitable habitats

But it all feels so real!
The tastes,
The sights,
That yearning,
Burning on the inside.

The voices
Speak,
Sort of like
 A spoken interaction
With the world around me,
Unheared and breathless,
Yet ceaselessly,
Constantly
Commenting, evaluating,
Deciding, guessing and
Stimulating

Anticipated action.

Some voices are more
Aggressive
Then others,
Some more subtle.

Then there is
“The ogre”,
Always harassing,
Always insisting
That he is owed something,
Like an eternal
Self-sustaining debt.

Sometimes patting the back,
As if suspiciously friendly,
Other times belching curses,
Demanding with threats.

In all honesty,
I feed this dog.
Yes,
I do.
I throw him a bone.
Even at times
When he comes crawling home
After a fight, defeated,
Practically on the verge of death,
I go to the lengths of
CPR, or even
Administering any kind of
Life prolonging medicine
At my disposal.
(Even sometimes
Silently
Praying for his recovery… )

God,
How pathetic!

The dog to emerge victorious
Is the dog that is fed the most.
It is a simple fact.
Common sense, really.

Why then seek out to explore
Those foggy landscapes
Of the mind and senses?
The damp mist of speculation
And contemplation of sense objects.

The ogrelike dog
Broken away from his leash,
Has you stumbling around, chasing him,
In this marchland habitat.
Waving arms in front,
You trip over every root
As he taunts you with barking
In the distance.
Here there is every chance
Of again falling into
That material pool,
Reeking of decay.

Feed the good dog.
He is ever faithful
To the master.
Like a blind dog
Trained to be that
Trusty, dependable companion,
He will not lead u astray.
He stays on his leash,
He can sniff out the path
Leading out.
Out of the fog.
Passed the pools.

But he must be fed
To survive.
And what is his favorite treat?

                Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna,
                Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare,
                Hare Rama, Hare Rama,
                Rama Rama, Hare Hare.